Damn him!
by MizuneMinamiki
Summary: On the couch, too! – the couch! Her couch! She's going to kill him when this is over! [Edo Gruvia]


**Note: **_Ahhh ;-; I've been semi-busy wasting my life away on Twitter and doing chores around the house to get money for various cosplays (like I'm totally addicted to cosplaying right now it's not even funny), and school really sucks right now. Not to mention, I really don't like FT as much as I used to anymore, but Edo Gruvia is still amazing. _

_This wouldn't exist right now if _Momo Cicerone_ hadn't tagged me in a post on tumblr by someone requesting (?) Edo Gruvia smut - also, based on one of my RPs with her! HERE I POSTED IT LIKE YOU ASKED, K ENJOY_

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She really doesn't want it to happen this way, but then, she doesn't really have a choice, does she? Gray's got her pinned with one long, slender leg thrown right over his shoulder, and his hand slipped up beneath the curve of her ass is keeping her hips arched in just the right way – and damn, if he doesn't stop this right now, she's not going to be able to so much as _move _come tomorrow; her back is twisted against the arm of the sofa, and the painful pressure increases with each untimed jerk of her hips in rhythm with his tongue.

_Damn him!_

And why, honestly, _why _is he still wearing his clothes? It's not like she can do much admiring of his remarkably chiseled physique from her current position – but damn it, this fabric _tickles_. She doesn't even know how he can be comfortable in this deep blue turtleneck when its scratchy texture is bothering her in so many ways from only a little contact on her highly-sensitive skin, but s_hit_, does he look handsome, that shirt hugging his upper body in all the right ways.

_Damn him and that deliciously _hot _figure beneath so many layers!_

On the couch, too! – the _couch_! _Her _couch! She's going to kill him when this is over – if she can even function properly once this is over and done with, and _holy_ – she _really_ doesn't want it to be! The liquid fire pooling in her abdomen is trickling in a slow path, burning its hottest right at the _source_ of her pleasure, his very hot, very _talented_ mouth.

_Damn him; damn him! Damn this teasing, knowledgeable bastard, Gray Surge! _

Each loud cry is stifled by the press of her own hand to her mouth as though to deny him the satisfaction of hearing her plead, hearing her _groan_ – what's the point of making that little attempt to salvage what's left of her pride? They've held hands, they've kissed – they've even done that godforsaken thing called 'cuddling,' which annoys the hell out of her, but he's actually _quite _comfortable, and it's soothing to snuggle up with. So, what's wrong with a little moan? A plea? A scream?

His tongue flicks, and she whimpers, clamping her teeth down on her bottom lip because s_hit_, she's so close, and this bastard is toying with her! It's like he knows _exactly _what makes her unravel beneath him, and it pisses her off because he _shouldn't _know! He shouldn't, but he's pressing his fingers to that one spot that reduces her to mindless cries of his name and needy arches of her hips into his mouth, and his _tongue_, it's moving _just right._

Fingers threading through locks of black hair, Juvia presses him in closer, twisting against the arm of the sofa in ecstasy – _damn him! _How can he do this to her?! She whispers his name hotly, accompanied by a curse or two, and she's certain that her nails scoring through his hair is bordering on pain, but she can't help it. She's just a few more seconds from reaching the pleasure he's been guiding her to – and she can _feel _that smug smirk of his against her core, and it makes her want to just fucking kill him –

But she can't.

She really, really can't.

She's going to be making up all kinds of ridiculous excuses to soothe herself later for letting him see this side of her, but the reality is that she's trembling, she's whining, and she's moaning because she's just _lost _in the bliss to which he's made her fall victim. She's breathless, hot, tired, but strangely contented – and when she finally finds the strength to open her eyes and peer down at him, eyebrows knitted together and lips twisted into a considerate frown, she's met with Gray's face close to hers.

His thumb traces the corner of his mouth as his tongue darts out to trail over his upper lip, and that's all she has a chance to catch with her distracted gaze; his lips are on hers in an instant, swallowing her soft protest, and she has no choice but to follow his lead, her hands gripping at his shirt and clawing it as she pulls him even closer, torn between taking the damn thing off of him or just closing what little distance remains between the two.

They part, and she chews her lip to prevent herself from uttering a complaint. She looks conflicted – or rather, like there's something else on her mind that she needs to say, and Gray understands what's holding her back. He bumps his forehead against hers and nuzzles her nose, that stupid, dorky grin on his face, and Juvia's heart skips a beat – _why her_? _Why him?_ _Why is she so taken with this man?_ _He's not her type – not by a longshot._

"You," she murmurs once she catches her breath, "are such an ass."

He giggles – giggles like a fucking schoolgirl, and Juvia probably would've knocked him on the head for it, but she's still lost. Gray tilts his head, lips brushing over hers. "You still think so, _Juvia-chan_? I can change that for you."

Despite that playful, sultry threat in his voice, she doesn't think she's going to regret provoking him.

She doesn't – not even after waking up sore and on the floor next to her sofa with the one person she had been so sure she hated.


End file.
